Silver Bells

Dear, dear me! Here is, December 19th, and nary a sign of Holiday Cheer on this blog! It's abominable, I tell you! Absolutely abominable. So to make up for it, I thought I'd give you a nice plummy post today filled with this Christmas, Rachel-style. Ready for it? Okay.

It begins with liberal doses of hot chocolate periodically. I heat the water in the old blue and white teakettle, then dump in far too many spoonfuls of the powder if we're out of cocoa and milk to make it the real way.

 I always use a Christmas mug this time of year, because what is better, honestly, than a Christmas mug at Christmas? (Thank you, Mary.)

I read books till my eyes are heavy and my mind is full of noble thoughts that never make it onto the blog like I mean them too, and I glance up at our Christmas tree and realize just what a beautiful one it is. The book I'm reading might be "A Christmas Carol"--a stave or so each evening.

“And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that [Christmas] has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!”

I might still shake inwardly over Marley's ghost. I might still smile and chuckle over the Crachitt's Christmas meal, thinking how like our own it is. I might, even, tear up when Tiny Tim comes on-page because if one can't be sentimental at Christmastime, one must be strangely inhuman and bereft of all feelings.

My season is interrupted by pleasant but odd things like 3D glasses and small glimpses of what C.S. Lewis called "Joy", but what manifests itself in odd, sharp-sweet stabs. I go to the midnight premier of a fantastic movie and stay up till 4:30 watching a meteor shower--stars dropping from the sky--and then take pictures to commemorate it.

The season continues. I make gingerbread men. I attempt to make fudge. I eat the not-so-fudge anyway, and discover Fudge-ish-gloop is quite as delicious as what it was meant to be. My friends concur. We imbibe deeply in not-so-fudge and then take a long walk to counteract its effects. Mama makes sugar-cookie dough--tradition of all childhood traditions!--and I pinch a bit when I pass the fridge, reveling in the taste of childhood.

I go shopping with the girls--my first trip to The City by myself as a licensed driver, and I did not get lost! Furthermore, it felt awesome having hard-earned money to spend, taking myself to spend it, and coming home all in one piece.

I sing. I sing lots of everything ranging from Matisyahu to Tenth Ave. North, to Bing Crosby's "Let it Snow" and a new-found-appreciation-version of "White Christmas." I listen to the girls play "The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy" on the piano and I get my yearly yearning to try a sugar-plum...whatever it is. I sing "Marshmallow World" before I can help myself, and then regret it immediately afterward.

I smell Christmas trees--coming in from being out and getting hit with the scent of fir. It's one of my favorite things in all the year! <3 There is nothing like home, for comfort, after all. I also sniff cinnamon, cider, vanilla, and my 7 different bottles of lotion from That Place. Ahem. Yes, I caved and went into That Place and blushed all the way home. Dear dear. 

I look at the world differently. Everyone has a story. The world is lit by candlelight and evensong and amethyst dusk. People go around acting different as if, for this one month out of the year, they sense a bit of what it means to be compassionate and loving.

I hear jingle bells and I smile. I hear accents and I smile broader. I hear "Far Over the Misty Mountains" as sung by Richard Armitage, and my heart both soars and plummets. Soars because the wander-lust is soft and swift, plummets because there are no literal dragons to slay.

I wait. I wait for Christmas Day, I wait for friends to arrive, I wait for parties and roadtrips and other beautiful events of the season. I wait for my family and friends to open the gifts I've given them, and I wait to open a few myself. I wait for Les Miserables to come out. But mostly I wait with expectant heart, arms high, and heart abandoned, in awe of the One who gave it all.

Can I get an Amen?